Conor nodded again, his face scrunched up with pain and weeping. “You wanted her to fall.”
“No,” Conor said through thick tears. “You wanted her to go.” “No!”
“You must speak the truth and you must speak it now, Conor O’Malley. Say it. You must.”
Conor shook his head again, his mouth clamped shut tight, but he could feel a burning in his chest,
like a fire someone had lit there, a miniature sun, blazing away and burning him from the inside.
“It’ll kill me if I do,” he gasped. “It will kill you if you do not,” the monster said.
“You must say it.” “I can’t.” “You let her go. Why?”
The blackness was wrapping itself around Conor’s eyes now, plugging his nose and overwhelming his mouth.
He was gasping for breath and not getting it. It was suffocating him.
It was killing him– “Why, Conor?” the monster said fiercely. “Tell me WHY! Before it is too late!”
And the fire in Conor’s chest suddenly blazed, suddenly burned like it would eat him alive.
It was the truth, he knew it was. A moan started in his throat,
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